I was on the 66 bus (Chicago Avenue, baby) last night a little short of 10:00 (yes, I realize that doesn't exactly make sense, but I like the way it sounds). I was thinking about taking a cab, but I peered down the street and the bus was right there. The night buses only come about every 15-20 minutes, so they tend to be kind of full. This one was no exception and I ended up standing about a third of the way towards the rear.
Among the crowd were two men. One was inexplicably playing the role of official bus greeter in that he was standing right in the front, blocking everyone's entrance. Instead of 'greeting', though, he sat and muttered to himself and a very unsuspecting commuter who had the great misfortune of picking the frontmost seat. It was hard to catch exact words, but not too difficult to get the gist. The words "damn preppies" and "hoods everywhere" came up.
Sitting at a window ten feet behind the greeter was a guy in his early 30's, though he was dressed (not to mention acting) like a 15 year old. Hooded sweatshirt, skull cap, poorly shaven, and he needed to work on his indoor voice. Though his outdoor voice was certainly doing a good job with the F word. His traveling companion was trying very unsuccessfully to quiet him down. On my way by him, he asked for a high five, which I strangely gave him, only to blurt out "You have huge hands." Which he did.
These two characters quite predictably got into an argument, which began to escalate as we passed Halsted. And I thought, 35 years ago, this would have been a slightly uncomfortable occurence on a bus. But now, as these guys get hotter and hotter under the collar, we all have to worry that someone's packing heat.
Needless to say, I was pretty happy to get off the bus.
1 comment:
When I was in high school, we were watching the July 4th fireworks by the fountain after the Taste of Chicago. Somewhere within that massive an argument ensued and someone pulled out a gun, which quickly scattered everyone around them, and quickly made a large number of people flatten themselves to the ground (myself included once we figured out what was going on). No one was hurt.
In my college years, in suburban Norridge, we were kept from leaving a movie theater after a late night movie, when some gang members were in the midst of a shootout (not using super-soakers eithers). No one was hurt, we had to wait more than an hour, and my suburban friends felt like they had quite an urban experience.
I would be in for gun control, ammunition control, or idiots control.
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